Stranger
by Tenku Greywords
Summary: Don't look at my face.' the stranger said, and it struck him as odd. He was the turtle, he was the one not accepted into human society... wasn't that his line?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I really don't know what inspired this, the idea just popped into my head and I simply _had_ to write it down. I hope you guys enjoy it, it's up to you if you want me to continue it or not!

Stranger

_Curiosity killed the cat, but did wonders for the turtle..._

* * *

"Don't look at my face." The person cried as they backed up further into the opposing corner and hastily pulled their headband over the left side of their face.

The request surprised him; shouldn't he be the one saying that? Wasn't it _his_ face the young woman should have been worried about? Wasn't his face far more terrifying than some female human's face? Curiosity made his blood continue to sing with adrenaline, and his three green fingers itched to pull back the strange woman's headband and take advantage of the tiny patch of moonlight off to the left. Curiosity made him want to look so badly- he had always loved secrets. Before he could stop himself, he asked;

"Why?" and settled himself in the shadows to conceal his bulky turtle body.

"Because I have lost many things because of this face." The stranger replied with ease, and he found that he liked her voice; it was soft, and pleasant to listen to. It was just the type of voice you expected to belong to a person who read books to children at libraries or took over delicate female acting roles. But from what he had seen of the stranger's body, she was not delicate- she was actually quite powerful looking, and not at all feminine.

"What type of things?" he asked, conscious of his surroundings even as he desperately tried to imagine what could be so gruesome below the mask.

"Relationships, friends in general…" the stranger replied, a resurfacing pain making her voice thick like glue. The words seemed strained, as if speaking them aloud were like driving a knife into her chest.

"Are you sure they were real friends to begin with then?" he replied, once again unable to stop himself. He cursed, hearing the sharp intake of breath, and for a moment he could have sworn she was going to dash out of the dark alley where two thugs' unconscious forms lay sprawled, or even worse-start to cry. Much to his immense relief, she began to laugh, her voice choking with pain; dimly he remembered that she had already been fighting when he had arrived on the scene. He had seen her take a blow to the gut, but he knew more than that had probably been done. That's how thugs like the ones he had taken out generally worked. Purple Dragons were real jerks.

"You see the underneath well, stranger." She smiled, the faint moonlight illuminating her features enough for him to catch the grin she flashed in his general direction.

"However, I can't answer that question, no mater how much I want to. Answers are never definite and I am a poor judge when it comes to friendship-call it lack of experience with it, if you will. I can judge character, but not friendship. Aren't I weird?" she laughed, moving slightly, testing the pain to see if it was manageable.

"What are your character judgment skills telling you about me?" he asked, curiosity making him delve further into what he knew could be a potentially harmful attack on his psyche. There was a measure of silence. Somewhere, a fight broke out between a group of dogs and a police siren began to echo throughout the streets. A car horn blared, someone began to yell curses. This was life in New York at night, he knew the sounds well; he also knew that he had to leave soon. His brothers would only wait for so long before he got in trouble.

"They're telling me that I can trust you. I don't know why, I've only just met you, but I think you just might be a good person, stranger." The young woman murmured, just loud enough for him to hear as she forced herself to stand on shaking legs- her nerves were definitely shot. He couldn't really blame her, after his first fight he had been the same way.

"I have to go." He said, almost as an afterthought, as he began to sink back into the shadows.

"I know, so do I. Will I see you again?" she replied softly, carefully keeping to the shadows in order to continue hiding her face. He did the same.

"Perhaps." He replied, a longing to discover the mystery behind the woman already burning deep in his chest.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around sometime, Stranger." The woman smiled as she pivoted on her heal and turned away, throwing an offhanded wave behind her shoulder with her right hand, the empty sleeve of her left arm flapping casually behind her.

Not for the first time, he felt the adrenaline rush that came with curiosity. He wanted to know so much more about the strange human that had named him Stranger.

Perhaps it was a bad personality trait to be so curious, he really didn't know, and he didn't care to either. For now, he would be a stranger, but someday he hoped to become a friend.

After all, he was really, really curious.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I can't believe I got reviews! Thank you guys so much; that really brightened my day. By the way, can any of you guess which of our favorite turtles this is centered around? I'm trying to make it obvious, but I would really like to know if I need to drop anymore hints.

Stranger

Chapter Two

_They say it's fate when you meet someone three times…_

* * *

He tried to pass it off as a coincidence, a fluke, or perhaps just one of the random anomalies the brainiest of his brothers always seemed to blather on about. In the end, he couldn't bypass the facts; they had run into each other three times.

The first was when he had beat up the thugs in the alley and she had first captivated his attention. That had been a week ago, and it had taken all his patience and willpower not to prowl about for the strange woman. For him, it had been nearly as hard as learning to mediate. No matter what he did, his curiosity hadn't left him alone. The first couple of days had been slow murder on his psyche.

The second time they met was only for the briefest couple of minutes. It had been a complete accident. He had been prowling Central Park as usual, blowing off the city routes in favor of relaxing for his allotted time on the surface. It had been a pretty night; there had been the faintest hint of a breeze to abolish the heat and humidity of summer, and the air smelled fresher than it normally did for that time of the year. Then, from the corner of his eye, he had spotted her. The night blanketed around her, and the headband he had glimpsed the first time he met her had covered the epitome of his curiosity. Then, she had looked straight at him where he was paralyzed in a tree, and he had fled. It was just as he had always done- training had made sure that aspect of his life was second nature. For days afterward he had agonized over that action, much to the confusion of his brothers; they knew nothing of the stranger.

The third time they met was a time he would never forget for as long as he lived. That night he had spotted her out of the corner of his eye again, and with a resolve made clearer by the sharp stab of pain at how he had felt after his hurried departure the second time, he had tailed her. If she knew, she didn't show it, and he had unabashedly followed her for the greater part of an hour as she weaved through the heavy throng of a living mass that was New York. Even from the rooftops, he could sense how uncomfortable she was with them. She went to several places that night: a grocery store, a pharmacy, and bookstore.

An hour had passed, and he knew his bothers would be getting worried, but he pressed on. Curiosity drove him harder and faster as he vaulted from building to building. He used all the stealth and speed his ninja master and father had given to him in his lessons. He tailed her well into the night as she clung to the shadows and hurried down streets that weren't used as much. Finally, she reached a somewhat decent apartment complex. He watched her go in, his eyes desperately trying to see through the walls, his heart of hearts hoping she had a window overlooking the building he was perched on.

For a while he sat there, his curiosity singing sweet songs as it pumped steadily through his veins alongside its partner in crime, adrenaline. They made his body race and his blood feel as if it were on fire. His flesh had prickled with gooseflesh and been pleasantly warm; the green color slightly red and sun-kissed. As to how much time had passed, he really couldn't have said. All he knew at that moment was his wish to be able to see through walls like some of his favorite characters in his comic books.

He had been a hair's width away from giving up for the night when one of the dark windows suddenly flared to life. His breath hitched, and for a moment he dared not to take even the slightest hint of a breath. He slowly inched forward, rocking forward and straining his eyes in hopes of catching a glimpse of the occupant inside.

The light dimmed, and for a moment his hopes were dashed. But then a head poked out, and the voice that had haunted his thoughts for well over a week met his all-too-ready-to-listen ears. It was just as he remembered, soft and delicate, but nearly bursting with the kind of strength his master had been trying to instill into his brothers and him.

"Hello, hello said the spider to the fly." The strange woman said.

"Welcome to my nest." He finished, nearly breathless with anticipation and excitement. His curiosity screamed in frustration when it discovered that the prevalent darkness of the city and the headband the strange woman wore obstructed his view of her face yet again.

"I knew it was you, Stranger." The woman smiled as she leaned on her windowsill, her right arm propping up her head as she relaxed lazily on what he had to guess was a window seat. Not for the first time did he notice the empty sleeve of her left arm, and once again he wanted with every ounce that was him to ask question after question. His curiosity howled at him like a wolf to a full moon.

"I've been tailing you all night." He answered honestly.

"Was it you at the park?" she replied serenely. For a moment his heart stopped, she was trying to see his face just as desperately as he was trying to see hers.

"That was a coincidence." He replied with a grin he knew she probably couldn't see.

"Did you know that we've met three times?" she asked suddenly.

"You're keeping count?" he said, and couldn't help but let a teasing air slip into his voice. He saw the strange woman grin and mutter something along the lines of 'you have too'.

"Yes, well, did you know that people say if you meet three times it's fate?" she asked. For a moment he didn't speak. She had known about that superstition too?

"Yes." He replied with a grin, "So, do you think fate has decided anything important?" He saw her shrug.

"Maybe fate has decided something and we don't know about it just yet." She said softly as she stared right at him. His heart stopped and then did a triple beat. For a moment he couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't even think. His curiosity and still present adrenaline woke him up and commandeered his mouth.

"May I ask you a question?" he asked inquisitively.

"You just did." She smiled, and he couldn't help but chuckle as a teasing air slipped into her voice too as she got more relaxed around him. He decided he liked that too, it was nice when there wasn't so much pain in her voice. 'Spunky' and 'happy' really suited her.

"You know what I mean." He teased right back.

"I have a deal for you, do you care to accept?" she asked out of the blue.

"What's the deal?" he replied, years of getting duped by his brothers coming in handy. For a second, he sent a quiet thanks to them, even though at the time it had been terrible.

"Very good, you thought it through. Anyway, the deal is this; you ask me as many personal questions as you want on the grounds that the favor is returned. We both have to answer honestly. Equivalent exchange and the such."

He thought about it for a minute. On one hand, he could not except and agonize over that choice for a long, long time. On the other hand, he could except and damn all the consequences, which did not exclude punishment from his brothers and/or father. He chewed on his lip for a moment, but in the end, the stronger of the two won.

"You've got yourself a deal." He said, unable to hide the big toothy grin that had been fighting tooth and nail to escape.

"I as hoping you'd say that, Stranger." The woman said with a laugh that he decided he liked as well.

* * *

To Be Continued!

Reviews and Constructive Criticism is appreciated, Flames will be mocked and/or used to warm my feet!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Once again, let me reiterate my disbelief at the fact that some people like this story… I was expecting so many flames by now. All your comments are greatly appreciated; thanks so much for giving me the motivation to write.

Stranger

Chapter Three

_You must ask questions you want to know the answers to…_

So many questions were buzzing through his head, giving their best interpretation of a swarm of flies or bees. Like an awaiting frog, or, in his case, an awaiting turtle, he snatched each one from their air and let the words slid across his tongue.

"What's your name?" he asked, almost breathlessly. A name to a face, he thought, I need a name to a face.

"Well, some people call me Blue, others Righty, but my given name is Danni." She replied breezily, an old pain surfacing at the admittance to her less than desirable nicknames.

"That's a pretty name." he offered with a grin as he forever inscribed it into his brain. Danni, he thought; it suited her. Not quite feminine and not completely masculine, but a healthy mix of both worlds.

"What about you, Stranger? Have you got a name as well?" Danni asked, curiosity making her eyebrows raise, her dark eyes shinning with a light he had only glimpsed a select few times. His heart skipped a beat- was she as curious about him as he was about her?

"Michelangelo." He replied as smoothly as possible, trying to sound suave, like his brothers, "But most people call me Mikey-except for one of my brothers… he likes to call me a knucklehead." He winced, rubbing at the back of his head on reflex. He watched her face register his name, and then she smiled. Michelangelo might have fallen off the roof with joy if his ninja training hadn't beaten any notion of being able to fall from anything out of him almost entirely.

"I like it." She said, "It reminds me of that famous artist… I think he painted the Sistine Chapel, I read about it in one of the books I have in my personal library."

"That's because I was named after him." He replied excitedly. She liked to read, huh? That was great! Maybe she liked comic books too?

"What do you like to read?" he asked before he could stop himself; he _knew_ that he had wanted to ask something else first! Oh well, he decided, he might as well just go with the flow of things.

"Oh, just about anything I can get my grubby little mitts on!" she replied, his keen and fixed attention on her allowing him to pick up the excitement blossoming on her features. Maybe he would stay away from the tough questions-he liked seeing her like this. It felt… special, somehow. It was like she was showing him a side of her that she rarely showed anyone else. He felt privileged and, quite strangely, more alive than he'd felt in a while. Was this how Donatello felt when he talked 'nerd' with April? How Leonardo felt when he'd accomplished a new move? How Raphael felt when he rode his motorcycle?

"What about you, do you read at all?" she asked hopefully.

"I read comics, mostly." He returned, grinning sheepishly even though she couldn't see him do it. He inched closer to her, a tightness in him sparking a fire that ignited his entire body. Curiosity propelled him forward again before their moment could die.

A fly landed, and the words spilled forth before he could stop them.

"What happened to you?" he asked as nicely as he could. Her smile deadened a little, and his heart skipped another beat as his stomach plummeted to the ground. He had definitely chosen the wrong question-stupid curiosity!

"I knew that would come up…" she whispered, but then smiled again, "but like I said, I think I can trust you." She said and then slowly peeled back her bangs and lifted the headband that had been tormenting Michelangelo for weeks. As an added touch, she rolled her shirt off her left shoulder, exposing the emptiness.

What he saw made him stare, and his heart clench tightly- he wanted to scream.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his eyes tracing the scars over the empty eye socket and remains of what had to have been an arm at one time- now only a shoulder remained.

"I'll tell you," she replied evenly as she pulled the sleeve of her shirt back up, "if you come into the light. Equivalent exchange and all that." Her face was stiff, and even from his distance he could see the question of rejection haunting her gaze. All his instincts screamed at him to run, that this was a step he was not meant to take, but his big 'bleeding heart' as his brothers called it, compelled him forward.

With the agility of a ninja, he propelled himself forward and landed with nary a sound on the fire escape in the shadows beside Danni. He took a second more to push all his inhibitions aside, and with a frantic heart and screaming and alert ninja senses, he stepped into the light.

He watched her face flicker like the flames of a candle. He watched it contort first to alarm, to confusion, and then to an emotion he couldn't quite identify- curiosity perhaps? His heart was choking him- he felt the city suffocating him. He trembled like a newborn infant taking its first breath and felt all the trepidation of a gangly child on the first day of school all at one moment.

Slowly, she reached out to him with shaking fingers- so slowly in fact that it took him a moment more than usual to realize she was moving at all. Curiosity had bloomed on Danni's features, and for a moment he held his breath as the world plummeted from underneath his feet again. Her fingers brushed against his cheeks, surprisingly cold against his warmth.

"Cold hands." He managed to croak out with a crooked smile. He watched her smile.

"You're not scary at all. Not like the tabloids and newspapers make you seem, at least. You're so warm." She murmured quietly, almost to herself. She gasped in surprise, moments later, as his fingers moved out to brush against the scarred side of her face.

"Beautiful." He said with a grin as he traced around the brutal scar tissue surrounding her eye. It trailed down her cheek, and even went slightly across the bridge of her nose- thin lines that were soft and supple-like baby's skin. Unexpected, he had expected it to be tough and rough.

"It's soft." He said in surprise, and he was rewarded with a smile.

"It's not scaly or slimy." She replied as she prodded his face with her fingers.

"So, what happened?" he asked quietly as they moved apart and she reseated herself on her window seat, and he found a seat on one of the steps of the fire escape, comfortably nestled in the shadows.

"So… what happened?" he asked quietly.

"The gang wars." She whispered, a far-off look diminishing the light in her eyes.

"The Purple Dragons took everything. My family and I were caught in the middle of it. I'm the only one who survived…if you call this surviving. I'm not even a person… I'm only half of one." She murmured.

"Who told you that?" Michelangelo asked, searching her face for the light that had once graced it.

"Everyone tells me that anymore." She whispered quietly, "Without my arm I can't do anything, never mind how my face looks. It's so ugly, I scare people."

"For what it's worth, I think you're a great person." Michelangelo said quietly, and then, he took a leap he never thought he'd make;

"I also think you're beautiful. You're like a….like a light, I guess." He said, and he could feel a distinct blush tint his green skin as she turned to him, startled. He thanked the shadows for concealing it.

"I'm not beautiful… you've seen my face Michelangelo. How can something like that be beautiful?"

"A wise man once said to that beauty is not what is on the outside… but what's on the inside." Michelangelo murmured quietly, his Master coming to mind as he stared at Danni under the light of New York City at night. He couldn't see the stars in the city, but if he could, he was pretty sure that she would drown out their light. He hadn't been this close to any human since April and Casey. It was like culture shock, he guessed, but it was oddly pleasant. Like the feeling you get when you have finally crossed over a difficult bridge.

"You're beautiful." He reiterated, "It's a shame no one can see it."

She blushed then, and once again Michelangelo decided that he liked that side of her too. She had an odd fidget when she blushed, and her cheeks lit up wonderfully. He couldn't help but grin.

"Would you like to…um, would you like to come in for some coffee or something?" she asked after a moment, regaining some of her composure as she slipped quietly into the safety of her apartment.

Although his mind said he was due back at any moment, and that is brothers might worry, he pushed it away when he stood up and openly walked in through her window.

"Sure, as long as there's food involved as well, I'm starved!"

"I think I might be able to arrange that…"

Surely, Michelangelo thought, this was the beginning of a beautiful new friendship?

Author's Note: Feedback is welcome. Comments and Critique are wanted, and Flames will be laughed at and used to warm my still cold-as-you-know-what feet.


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